


Doublemeat is Double Sweet

by zabjade



Series: Far to Go [14]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 22:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16273211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zabjade/pseuds/zabjade
Summary: Workers at one of the local fast food joints have been mysteriously disappearing. Determined to put a stop to it, Buffy goes undercover at the Doublemeat Palace. Part of the Far to Go verse, taking place shortly after the events of Saturday’s Child.





	Doublemeat is Double Sweet

The vampire was evil. Buffy didn’t care if he had a soul. People with souls did evil things all the time. And that thing Spike was doing with his tongue? Majorly of the evil, and she was _so_ going to have to punish him for it.

“…with a medium soda.”

As soon as it was time for her break.

“Would you like anything else?” Buffy asked through her fake smile as she put in the customer’s order. He stared blankly at her for a moment like she’d just spoken a foreign language, then continued ordering. “I want a triple Doublemeat Medley with cheese, hold the cheese, with medium fries and a medium soda.”

“Okay, so a number ni–”

“No,” he interrupted, scowling at her. “I want a triple Doublemeat Medley with cheese, hold the cheese, with medium fries and a medium drink.”

She glanced back at the menu as the man muttered about the kind of idiots who worked fast food. Yep, there it was, number nine. The triple Doublemeat Medley (of the no cheese variety), with a side and drink. It was cheaper than how he was ordering it, but she knew it would be pointless to tell him as much.

“Of course, sir. That’ll be fourteen ninety-eight.”

Thank god she didn’t actually have to do this for a living. Though, bad as it was, it wasn’t – quite – a fate worse than death, which was why she was here. With the cravings Spike had been having recently, they’d been spending a lot of time at the Doublemeat Palace, enough to notice that it had an unusually high employee turnover rate.

While she had been in L.A. with Spike and Thursday to deal with Angel’s problems, the Scoobies had staked things out. Something hinky was definitely going down. Tara had found the finger of a no-show coworker when she’d been cleaning in the back during closing. Even with Spike’s assurances that the chicken and beef burger weirdness contained no human meat, they’d pulled Tara – ‘cause, you know, human remains and all – and Buffy had applied for and gotten a job slinging burgers.

There was a lull in customers, so Buffy let her gaze wander back to Spike and Thursday. Their baby was in a highchair, enjoying her “strawberry” applesauce from home. As for Spike…. Her eyes narrowed as he held up another French fry, tongue flicking out to oh so slowly caress the salty goodness, his face a picture of absolute bliss. Then that wicked, wicked organ of wicked wickediness curled around the fry and drew it into his mouth. _Guh_. Oh yeah, that vampire definitely needed punished, stat.

Buffy forced her gaze away and glanced at the clock. Three more minutes until she could go on break. Her mom would be here then to watch Thursday, allowing Buffy to coax Mr. Clingy French Fry Defiler away from their daughter for at least fifteen minutes. Not that him doting on her was exactly _bad_ or anything, but after everything in L.A., he’d been way paranoid and panicky when it came to her safety. It wasn’t good for him.

Her mom arrived right on time, and Buffy called out that she was taking her break before hustling over and grabbing Spike by the arm. “Thanks, Mom,” she said with a wave as she started to drag him away.

“Buffy, what–” Spike cut himself off by grabbing a couple of fries and stuffing them into his mouth as he stumbled a few steps along with her. Then he dug his heels in. “Thursday–”

“Is fine with Mom here to take care of her. She’s not going to spontaneously combust.” She glanced around the restaurant and lowered her voice to a soft murmur. “And the employee-killing monster thing only comes out after the place closes. She’s safe, and I want some snuggle time.” She stuck out her lower lip and widened her eyes.

The pout and magic S word did the trick just like she’d known they would, the silly, trusting vampire. He hesitated only a moment before letting her drag him outside into the evening air. Then she pulled him around the alley and on the other side of the dumpster before slamming him against the wall. Her hand, suddenly deciding to do its own thing, crept under his t-shirt, palm finding and pressing against the little water-balloony firmness that was Aliena. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought of their baby, all snug and safe tucked inside of her daddy.

 _No, Buffy, bad,_ she scolded herself, shaking away the smile and reluctantly snatching her hand away. It was time to punish the evil vampire, not fondle the barely-there baby bump. Avoid temptation. She was totally good at that. Yep, indeedy.

“You,” she said sharply, “have been a very bad man.”

A moment of confusion turned into a slow smirk and a raised brow. “Have I, now?” Spike practically purred.

“Yuh-huh,” she said with a solemn nod as she unbuckled his belt. She was definitely looking forward to when he started wearing the kilt again. It made certain things so much easier. “And for your crimes…. Well, let’s just see how you like having your ‘French fry’ licked.”

And before he could answer, she yanked his pants down and attacked.

 

**...**

 

Bits of him were gibbering in terror about being away from Thursday, but Spike forced it down. She was safe with her grandmum. He’d smelled a few demons hanging about inside the Doublemeat Palace, but those playing at being human tended not to cause much of a fuss in brightly lit public places. As for the humans…. Memories of the Wolfram & Hart kidnappers flashed through his mind, along with the sight of Holtz holding a stake against Thursday’s chest. He could almost hear her cries. He had to….

Buffy slammed him into the wall, distracting him from his thoughts enough that he was able to stay still and quiet as she pressed her hand against his lower belly. _Silly sod,_ he thought in amusement, _thinking she meant you and not the sprog when she said she wanted a snuggle._ Then she pulled her hand away and gave him a serious slayer look.

“You,” she snapped, “have been a very bad man.”

What the bloody hell was she on about? He stiffened slightly as he tried to figure it out, then relaxed, lazily smirking. Ah, so kitten wanted to play then, did she? “Have I, now?”

“Yuh-huh.” God, she was adorable, all solemn expression and earnest eyes. He stared into them as her hands worked at his belt, his body responding to her as desire shivered through him. “And for your crimes…. Well, let’s just see how you like having your ‘French fry’ licked.”

French fry? Had she seriously just called his prick a bloody _French fry_? Oh, he’d show her. He’d ‘French fry’ her right up the–

His thoughts fizzled out as she yanked his pants down around his ankles while going to her knees. Then she was on him, one hand cradling and fondling his balls and her tongue painting lines of pleasure along the hard length of him.

Oh. Oh, _god_. She sucked and licked and nibbled, going for all of the things she knew he liked best with a single-minded intensity that was almost enough to break through his control and set him off early. Small sounds escaped him as he panted for breath he didn’t need, his head going back and his eyes fluttering closed. God, she was amazing. She was…. He needed to…. He reached down for her, wanting to pull her up and claim her mouth with his, to taste the flavor of his skin on her lips, proof that she was his and he was hers and–

Her hands grabbed at his hips with bruising force and she bloody well _growled_ , the possessive, primal sound vibrating through him, pushing him to the very edge. And then the bloody bitch pulled away, stood up, and turned around.

Spike just stood there for moment, too stunned to act. Then he lunged forward with a snarl, just barely keeping himself from tripping over his jeans as he grabbed Buffy and slammed her against the wall hard enough to make her grunt.

“Damn it, Spike, no. I need to get back to work,” she said. A lie. There was still time. Not a lot, but enough for a quickie. He knew her body well enough to get them both off before she had to be back at the register. He pressed his body against her, nuzzling at her neck. “I said _no_!”

She shoved at him, squirming and wiggling as she tried to fight him off. Or played at it, anyway. She never used enough strength to actually stop him, and their safe word never crossed her lips. The word no did, though, repeatedly, along with dire threats of what she planned to do to him, all gasped out between heated kisses. And then her work trousers were down and he was inside of her, buried to the hilt in the warm, slick core of her.

“No,” she moaned, slapping at his back half-heartedly as she arched against him. “Oooh, yeah, there, _ah_! Gonna rip your eyes out and… ah, ah… use ‘em for earrings. Rip your back to shreds.”

“Promises, promises,” he panted out.

Their banter devolved into incoherent sounds of pleasure, each gasp and sigh and moan an exquisite verse. Buffy’s arms snaked around him, crushing him tight as she shook in the grip of release, her inner muscles fluttering and squeezing around him, driving him to his own completion.

“Love you,” he whispered hoarsely into her hair as he sagged against her, pressing her tighter against the wall.

“Love you, too.” The sweetest words ever spoke, followed closely by the second. “Let’s go back in and get you some more fries.”

 

**...**

 

According to the rules, there were supposed to be at least two employees and a supervisor on site during closing. Something Buffy had noticed though, was that businesses in Sunnydale tended to throw the rules right out the window when monsters were around. That worked to her advantage here, since it meant she was alone in the restaurant during the time when the beastie was likely to strike. Well, mostly alone. There were no other employees there with her, but she could feel Spike, lurking quietly out of the way.

She scrubbed and mopped and scraped away grime until she was fairly certain the monster wasn’t going to show up. Stupid monster, making her deal with all this uber gross for no reason. Then she heard a sound, soft footsteps that didn’t belong to Spike. Buffy froze for a moment, then continued her cleaning, letting the owner of the footsteps get closer. Closer. Closer. She whirled around, finding herself face-to-face with one of the regulars, an old lady with a very obvious wig.

“Wig lady,” she blurted out, using the nickname she’d heard from some of the other employees.

The woman frowned at her. “Wig lady? Is that what they call me? I don’t like that at all.” She shook her head and pulled off the wig, revealing her bald head. “I have to do something to hide this, you see.”

A snake-like _thing_ emerged from the center of Wig Lady’s scalp. It kept her eyes, leaving the human face as a saggy, eyeless mask of flesh around the base of the long, thick neck. Ew. It opened its mouth, a fangy slit above the eyes, and squealed at her.

Then the creepy head fell to the floor as a machete slid through its neck. The body fell like a marionette with its strings cut, but Buffy wasn’t paying attention anymore. She put her hands on her hips and glared at Spike.

“Damn it, Spike, you stole my kill!”

Evil vampire. Once they got home, she was going to have to punish him. Again. She slowly licked her lips at the thought. Just as well, really. After all, as she always said – “always” apparently being today when she was bored at the register – doublemeat was double sweet.


End file.
